


Royal Silence

by aluinihi



Series: RoyEd Week 2018 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M, Roy is Ed's bodyguard, Van Ho is a duke bc why not, Xerxes | Cselkcess, Xerxian AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aluinihi/pseuds/aluinihi
Summary: Don’t look at the young dukes. It was the first advice given to the officers after it was confirmed that the Hohenheim family would be visiting Amestris.According to Xerxian traditions, direct contact with unmarried members of a royal or noble family without the permission of the patriarch was a horrendous scandal. The Xerxian commoners who dared to commit such act of disrespect were bound to live in shame, jail or, depending on the type of contact, to not live at all. The Duke’s wife, Duchess Trisha Hohenheim, was an Amestrian woman, but rumors had it that she was raising perfectly Xerxian children, giving up on all of the Western habits from her homeland. So, as to not create any unnecessary disasters that could ruin the economic plans of Amestris, it became protocol to not even look at the kids and the soldiers got to the point of completely ignoring them to stay in line.But of course, Roy Mustang’s life couldn’t be that simple.





	Royal Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably add more chapters to this, I just couldn't stop writing it haha. But that obviously depends on how people will react...
> 
> Edward is aged up a bit, let's say... Ed is 15/16 and Roy is 19/20 years old.
> 
> English is not my native language, tell me my mistakes, please!

 

 

Don’t look at the young dukes. It was the first advice given to the officers after it was confirmed that the Hohenheim family would be visiting Amestris.

According to Xerxian traditions, direct contact with unmarried members of a royal or noble family without the permission of the patriarch was a horrendous scandal. The Xerxian commoners who dared to commit such act of disrespect were bound to live in shame, jail or, depending on the type of contact, to not live at all. The Duke’s wife, Duchess Trisha Hohenheim, was an Amestrian woman, but rumors had it that she was raising perfectly Xerxian children, giving up on all of the Western habits from her homeland. So, as to not create any unnecessary disasters that could ruin the economic plans of Amestris, it became protocol to not even look at the kids and the soldiers got to the point of completely ignoring them to stay in line.

But of course, Roy Mustang’s life couldn’t be that simple.

“Your hair is funny.”

 The young major stood frozen on the doorstep of the library. He and the warrant officer Jean Havoc were appointed to care for the two boys’ nightly security, which meant they would be following them around while keeping an eye out for threats. No big deal. Except that it was.

There was a threat. A huge threat that seemingly no one saw as one. But Roy saw it—of course, he did, how couldn’t he when it was always around him—the threat dressed in beige tunics and thin leather sandals, gold bracelets covering toned arms and hair braided with small pieces of jewelry that made a sweet _clink clink clink_ sound with each movement of the head. It showed no mercy, seeking constant attention through poking and relentless teasing.

“Can I touch it?”

The older brother.

“Oi, answer me, you jerk.”

Oh, poor Havoc... 

Roy did not dare look at the scene occurring right beside him.

“Brother, stop that, you know they can’t talk to us.”

A snort and footsteps were heard.

“Yeah, whatever. C’mon, Al, there must be some books here that we haven’t read.”

Breath in, breath out.

Roy risked a glance over a pale Jean Havoc. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

Oh, fuck.

 

* * *

 

The Duke’s family was in Central purely for political reasons. Van Hohenheim was very inclined towards alliances with Amestris and seemed found of its Eastern countryside, where he met his wife. Getting to his good side was one of the top priorities of the Führer, needless to explain why: Xerxes posed as one of the most powerful countries, even without the strong militarism of its neighborhoods Amestris and Drachma. No one would dare to invade the oldest country of the continent, that survived centuries in the desert and still managed to have the most advanced scientific and artistic hubs. The Royals were so important that the Führer actually went through the trouble of reserving a whole suburban mansion exclusively for them, with dozens of rooms and a caravan of maids, cookers and guards.

Out of so many soldiers, it made the Flame Alchemist wonder why him.

During the days, the boys almost lived in the library, which made the whole job for the day guards easier. These lucky officers did not need to walk around that much, and Edward spent most of the time with his face in a book instead of being an inconsiderate brat. And there even a good part: listening to the brothers interact as if their guards weren’t even there was endearing: the older one turned soft and caring when it came to Alphonse. Apparently, the two of them were brilliant, reciting formulas and facts as if they were long-time experienced alchemists, and, as far as the sparring times they had could tell, great hand-to-hand fighters, something completely unexpected of young royals.

But when the night started, oh, that was the definition of _hell_. The brothers were separated, and Roy would always be dragged by Edward to his quarters and sit by the door. Every night, the young duke would open the curtains and lay wide awake in bed, bathed in silver moonlight, until an unbearable point of boredom. Then the boy wandered around the room, talking to Roy as if he could answer and complained because he didn't. The emptiness of the ambient left the man brave enough to follow the blond with his eyes, but not to speak. So Edward cursed him, his ancestors, his descendants, and sometimes even threw a pillow at him when the anger grew too much to be conveyed in words.

It was an overly warm evening when Edward decided to change his behavioral patterns. The youths parted with a hug and Jean Havoc stayed behind to accompany Alphonse. The instant they were out of sight, the boy grabbed Roy’s hand. The man flinched as if he’d been burned, staring with wide eyes at the smaller one, who made his point by tightening the grip.

“Let’s go.”

And the Flame Alchemist didn’t make a sound.

The Xerxian’s room was the size of Roy’s apartment, furnished with wooden furniture and a bed big enough for... _well_. In front of the pompous fireplace was a couch that seemed too comfortable for its own good, to which Roy kept giving longing looks every night he had to spend in that damn stool by the door. The whole space was disturbingly impersonal and the thought of living there repulsed the young major. Edward seemed to hold similar opinions, since he stashed all his luggage in the smallest pile possible on the ground next to the bed, not even unpacking properly.

The boy closed the door and the raven-haired man cringed at the sound of a lock being turned. He gave Roy’s hand a little tug and, when the man showed no sign of moving, rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a stubborn bastard, it’s not like I plan to torture you or something."

The soldier sighed and relented, letting himself be dragged in the direction of the couch. _Oh, oh, the couch_. The boy flopped in the cushions and propped his feet on the table – the movement too aggressive and ungracious to be considered cute but Roy thought it was anyway –, patting the spot next to him.

The man frowned and stood frozen.

“Y’know, I’m royalty and all that, but if I have to tackle you to make you sit on this damn sofa, I will.”

So Roy sat down and–

–he had to stop himself from sprawling all over it.

_oh god ohgodohgod this is furniture heaven_

He managed to keep a straight face.

“It must’ve been hell sitting on that stool all night, right?”

The young major did not look at him, eyes locked to the empty fireplace, but he could hear the smile.

"Now I just have to figure out a way to make you talk to me. C'mon, isn't it weird that you just follow me around and never say a word?"

Silence.

“I think it's pretty fucking creepy."

More silence. And a snort.

"God, you're so annoying." Edward's feet left the table and Roy heard a bit of fumbling. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, fidgeting the lone star patched there.

"But you have a nice face, y'know, for a bastard."

The man tensed like a string pulled tight. That was an attempt at flirting, right? It just had to be. Oh god, maybe the compliment had been a bit backhanded, but a compliment nonetheless. And then there was that insistent hand on his shoulder just adding to his thesis. Roy's mind buzzed with the pride and his heart did some weird, excited leaps and a stunning Xerxian royal said he has _a nice face_. His eyes drifted to Edward, only to meet the boy's smug grin.

“You do Flame Alchemy.” A statement, not a question. “But fire isn't matter, so how does it work? You can't expect me to believe that you can alchemize flames.”

Roy went back to staring straight ahead.

A loud, loud groan, almost a scream and the soft touch on his shoulder left.

“Holy fucking hell, what do I have to do for you to make a goddamn noise? Is it really going to hurt you so much to just talk to me? You'd get fired or some shit? That's just stupid, this whole thing is really fucking stupid!" The boy's fists clenched against the pillowed surface.

"I know you like me, okay? I mean, you're always giving me these _looks_ and... I just _know_ , okay? And it's fine, more than fucking fine even cause– yeah, I don't believe in that tradition bullshit and answering me won't instantly turn you in my fucking husband or an exiled or whatever. Fuck, you're not even from Xerxes and in a few weeks we'll go back home and you won't _ever see me again_..."

His tone was losing its initial sourness, crumbling into something akin to hopelessness. From the corner of his eyes, the raven-haired soldier saw the boy gesticulating, exasperated and barely giving himself time to breathe between words.

“It's just... no one talks to me anymore.” A sigh and Roy itched as whole to reach out “I mean, I have Al, my parents and some letters from Winry but _that's it_. Even the servants– fuck, Al and I used to talk to them _every day_ , they were so nice and they played with us and I thought they liked us. But even with dad's permission, it's not _fucking polite_ so they just stand there expecting us to give orders and shit and act as if everything is normal. Al is gonna marry Winry in a year or so, and he'll be outta this hell in no time, but I– _fucking god_ , they've been tryin’ to set me up with someone but I'm _such a fuck up_ and– and...”

A deep, shuddering breath and then–

“Forget it. Just... stay on the sofa tonight, I guess, that stool looks uncomfortable as hell."

–stood up and _left_.

Roy's chest tightened. How could he? How could Edward mess around with him like he _always_ did, poking and teasing, then tear himself open like he _just_ did and spill all over? As if it was nothing, as if it wasn't a tsunami but rather a warm wave that never got above the ankles? As if it didn't leave Roy breathless and stunned and craving for the attention–

“It's oxygen manipulation." The footsteps ceased.

A questioning uh and Roy could hear his own heart ripping his way from chest to throat in mismatched beats. Edward was back on the couch in a split of a second, his whole body turned to its other occupant, so the major adjusted to a similar position.

“But how do you–"

The words spilled out of him, and Roy hoped that he didn't sound as starved as he felt:

“My gloves are made with phosphorus added between the fibers, so when I snap my fingers the friction generates a spark. It's called ignition cloth." Edward's irises were like two gems of gold, shining curiosity and heavy with something the alchemist couldn't quite name. “Then I focus on the atoms of oxygen in the atmosphere and move them around to make wide range flames."

The boy smiled, from ear to ear and sparkling under the yellow lamps of the room.

“That's pretty fucking neat, for a bastard."

 

* * *

 

Their days carried on with the soft weight of a shared secret and the nights became sweet sleeplessness. Roy was not restlessly teased anymore and, from time to time, Edward would raise his head from a book and their eyes would lock for a millisecond. In that small moment, the world came to a halt.

Edward wore his heart on his sleeve, so full of thoughts and emotions that all it needed to spill was a little tug. His favorite food was stew and his color was red. He started alchemy on his own. He loved Alphonse and would die for him. He lost his leg in an accident and his best friend Winry made his automail. He loved Winry and would die for her. He preferred _Elric_ , his mother's last name, over _Hohenheim_. He lived through the equivalent exchange law.

So Roy told him about his alchemy. About his favorite books, his beloved records. He told him he loved flowers, especially sunflowers and water lilies. He complained about a faceless girl named Gracia, who stole his best friend away. The only ones who could put up with his shit were said best friend, Maes, and Riza. He was an orphan. There'll be a riot in Ishval, he was sure of it. He was scared of it. He hated guns, corrupt politicians and being alone.

_It's not you,_ Roy reminded himself, _he just wants company._

They sat in front of the unlit fireplace, arms and legs brushing, touching, draped over each other. Sometimes, Edward snuggled up against him, neverminding the itchy cloth of the blue uniform. He dared to pet blond hair more times then he could count and Ed liked to hold hands so Roy had to take his _damn gloves off_. And they talked, and talked, and talked, not once missing a chance to answer each other.

_It's not you, he just wants company._

Until the fateful night, the Xerxian decided to put Roy's mouth to other uses. He threw himself into the officer's lap, trapping him to the couch with his knees on each side of Roy's hips, a daring smile adorning his expression. _No, no, no, I'm older than you, what if I hurt you, what if someone sees us, what if,_ _what if–_

_what if this is more than I can take_

_It's not you, he just..._

Edward – brilliant, stunning Edward – covered the other's lips with his on, and just like before, Roy relented. Ed's fingers tangled in ink-black hair, tight and pulling in a way that forced a whimper out of him. Roy's hands roamed, grasping, squeezing, touching taunt muscles and every patch of exposed skin within reach. Their tongues slid together and Edward pressed down against the body underneath his, making the man's nerves sing with pleasure and desire.

_It's not you._

So they moved from the sofa to the bed.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Roy woke up amidst a mess of limbs and soft bed covers, legs tangled and his arm pale against a tanned torso. The acknowledgment of his sin hit him like a train wreck, his mind screaming for him to get up and out, maybe if he begged he could get a transfer and leave the young duke with another soldier to mess with. In the end, it wouldn't make a difference to the blond, and the man would die before admitting that the thought left a bitter taste in his tongue.

Edward's eyelids fluttered open, slowly and dizzy, revealing impossible golden irises. Instead of bolting out of the room, Roy allowed himself to indulge in the sight of the boy beside him, yawning and stretching, back arching in a cat-like manner. Edward smiled.

“So,” he let out a small laugh “How fired are you for this?”

Roy smiled back.

“Very, very fired. Maybe even an execution is in order.”

The blond laid on his side and kissed a pale shoulder with unnatural delicacy, mumbling something unintelligible.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” his voice louder and hinting annoyance “Is it worth it, though?”

Roy stared at him, blinking in confusion.

Oh. _Oh_.

And Edward had the audacity to blush.

A laugh bubbled its way through the soldier’s lips, and he pulled the boy closer to him. How could he ever think of giving away this sweet duty to another officer? Edward, irritated and obviously embarrassed, struggled to get out of the embrace, but the man just tightened the grip, overwhelmed by the thumps of his own heart.

“ _Nonono_ , Ed, don’t get angry at me, I’m not making fun of you, please!”

“Not making fun my ass, let go of me!”

He placed his hand over Ed’s jaw, forcing o look back at him. Roy felt warm all over, almost as if he was being tickled on the insides. He put his best efforts to contain the giggles but failed miserably.

“I mean it, I’m not! I would never make fun of you for something like that!”

“I said let me go, you bastard!”

An elbow hit Roy on the ribs.

“ _Ouch!_ It is worth it, Ed, it’s so worth it!”

The struggling ceased and the boy stared at him warily.

“...is it?”

His voice was almost a whisper, so Roy whispered in return:

“Yes, and I won’t ever regret it.”

He kissed the tip of Ed’s nose and the boy made a disgusted face.

The small alarm on the bedside sounded, announcing that Edward should get ready to join his family for breakfast and Roy should go to the door to wait for the man who would cover the next shift. The youths took their time to detangle from each other, and when they did Ed made his escape to the bathroom. Roy put his uniform on and then went to look at himself in the wall mirror, trying to fix his tousled hair. Deeming his appearance acceptable – the white shirt was a bit wrinkled and Ed had left a small purple mark oh his neck, so he had to button his jacket all the way up – he left the room to wait for his substitute.

The corridor was empty so there was no one to judge, but Roy lowered his head to hide the smile anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://aluinihi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
